The Cost Of Loving
by Minnow
Summary: Itemised and annotated account of what it cost Remus Lupin to love Sirius Black.
1. Part 1

**The Cost of Loving**  
**By Minnow **

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and various publishers and corporations.  
**Summary:** Itemised and annotated account of what it cost Remus Lupin to love Sirius Black. This is just the first part.  
**Pairing:** Remus/Sirius  
**Era: **MWPP - OoTP  
**Spoilers:** The Harry Potter series.  
**Rating: **R  
**Notes:** Scenes from a relationship, MWPP to OoTP. Add them all up and you get a story, I hope. Not a distillation of events; fairly picaresque. Don't be put off by brief het references at the start. A couple more minor het reference in there too.

**The Cost of Loving, Part I **

_FAO Remus Lupin Esq. Final account from the Wizarding Romance Division, with reference to the love affair between our client and the late Sirius Black. Please do not contact us if your interest payments seem too low, as we cannot remedy any mistakes at this point._

**Price: one pretty girl. Paid, Hogwarts, Fifth Year. **

Everyone knew that Lily Evans's best friend, Zoe, fancied Remus Lupin. Even Remus knew, which was quite something, because he tended to be absorbed either in work, in the latest machinations of his three best friends, or in recovering from the full moon.

Zoe was pretty, kind, and thought Remus was the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen. Most of the Gryffindor girls swooned over Sirius, and Zoe's best friend had a very secret crush on James Potter. But Zoe found both boys sadly wanting beside Remus, who had an air of mystery that she found intriguing.

She was resourceful, if not quite as brave as most Gryffindors, and sent Lily to plead her cause with Remus just after OWLs. Because Lily and Remus were the Gryffindor prefects they had become quite friendly, which James resented a bit, though he tried not to show it.

Lily said, 'Poor old Zoe, you could give her some sort of encouragement, Remus.'

Remus felt a bit guilty. 'It's better if I don't, Lily. I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship.'

'Oh, come on,' Lily snorted. 'You're what? Nearly sixteen.'

After their conversation, Remus seriously considered, yet again, asking Zoe out, but of course as a werewolf he couldn't just rush into a romance. He spent some hours debating whether he would be able to tell her his secret, or whether he could actually go out with her and not tell her. His friends' relentless teasing about Zoe was beginning to wear him down as well, though Sirius didn't like her, and was rather scathing about her.

'Just make up your bloody mind, Moony. You'll end up like James, if you're not careful, just going on and on and on about the stupid girl.'

'She's not stupid.'

'She's not as stupid as you are at Potions, granted. But nobody is.'

'Thanks anyway, Sirius.'

'You're welcome. I s'pose she's quite pretty in an insipid way.'

Remus didn't say out loud that her prettiness was far from insipid, because her colouring was very similar to someone else's; her dark hair and grey-blue eyes were the features that had attracted him to her in the first place.

At the very end of term, in the last week of Fifth Year, sitting under the tree by the lake again, Remus tried to make up his mind what to do. A black swan drifted by lazily, stirring the still water, and Remus thought not of Zoe but of his friends, of how he would miss them over the summer. Though he wouldn't miss the way they completely ignored any authority he had as a prefect.

The moment for Zoe didn't quite pass until a December night in Sixth Year. She and Remus might have been happy together; both were destined to escape the first war alive, if not unscathed. They could have married. Zoe would have been terrified of the werewolf thing at first, but she would gradually have accepted it, maybe even become an Animagus in her turn to keep Remus in check.

For a while during that sunny OWLs summer, the hottest of the twentieth century, Remus's destiny was poised on the brink between joy and sorrow.

But a stupid prank intervened, and after that he never could see anyone but Sirius again.

Price: a heart. Paid, Hogwarts, Sixth Year.

Remus couldn't really pinpoint the time or place when he started to love Sirius. Possibly, he finally admitted to himself how he felt at roughly the time Sirius told him about the love letter that had got him banished from 12 Grimmauld Place. Though really, he had probably loved Sirius, at some level, almost from the moment he first met him.

He imagined Sirius sitting in his dark room in the Blacks' London house, writing halting phrases to a schoolmate with three strikes against him in the romantic stakes: he was a half blood, he was a werewolf and he was a boy. He admired Sirius's nerve in admitting that he was in love with one of his best friends. He couldn't quite believe that the beautiful and slightly arrogant Sirius Black could actually love him.

He knew Sirius _liked_ him. He knew that Sirius was concerned about what he went through every month during his transformations, just as he knew that the Animagus idea had been as much a great prank as a genuine desire to help him. He knew that Sirius could be capricious and cruel; but that was only because when he was kind he was so very kind, when he loved you he loved you with every fibre of his being.

When Remus thought about love, he thought of a snowy day, and a first kiss, in the hospital wing at Hogwarts just after the prank. The snow had melted by the next day; the kiss went on for quite some time, so long that he was sure Madam Pomfrey must actually have seen it, seen the boys kissing and tiptoed away again.

Of course she hadn't, because this was the seventies, and she would have had a thousand fits at the sight. Nobody stopped the boys, because nobody would have dreamed that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had some sort of thing going.

The romance took root, and flourished, flourished quite alarmingly, Remus sometimes felt, not quite able to believe his good fortune in being loved by Sirius Black. And Sirius certainly had his heart, all of it, every beat and every skipped beat.

Price: inhibitions. Paid, December, Sixth Year 

They were used to the usual punches, slaps on the back, shoving, wrestling, and the generally physical stuff that teenage boys get up to without it meaning anything at all.

But touching deliberately, actually _touching_, would be weird, skin on skin, and weirder if you were both boys. How could you do that? A hug and even a kiss in the hospital wing were not so daunting when one of you was on the brink of desperation and the other was drugged up with so many potions that the days since the change were passing like strange dreams with nightmare elements intertwined.

A few days after the prank, and the day he was forgiven, Sirius helped Remus bring his belongings back from the infirmary, and they had half an hour before James and Peter would be out of school. They sat on the floor by the fire, their backs against Remus's bed, and kissed again. This time, they stopped and looked at each other, their breath hitching, before Sirius reached out a tentative hand and brushed back Remus's hair so he could see his face. Then they reached for each other slowly, almost languorously, because half an hour seemed like an eternity.

But it went very quickly, and the door banged, and they just had time to pull away from each other before James was leaping over Remus's bed, thumping him on the back, saying that Sirius had been a bloody fool, hadn't he, and Remus thanked James for saving Snape's life and Remus's bacon, and James said not at all, Moony, and it was time to go down to the common room for tea.

In the next few days, they found that touching may be daunting but not touching was frustrating, and if you were two boys in love with each other in a crowded school, you would spend so much time not touching that touching would acquire an edge of urgency, and so you could get through it. Your legs and feet could touch under tables and desks, and your hands could brush accidentally on the way back to Gryffindor tower, and the odd arm around a shoulder looked innocent enough, because boys could do that. Though perhaps without the galvanising effect it had on these two boys, who spent a lot of time seeking each other out in order to touch.

Price: innocence. Paid, December, Sixth Year 

They weren't absolute beginners for very long. A week after their first kiss, they were dawdling down a deserted corridor, not especially wanting to get to Charms. On the way, overcome with sudden lust, Remus pushed Sirius (or Sirius pushed Remus: or perhaps it was mutual) into an empty classroom, where they clung to each other, kissing desperately, until they both cried out in pleasure and perhaps awe; it didn't take long, about two minutes at the most, but that was probably only to be expected. For a first time, it wasn't graceful and it certainly wasn't romantic, but the intensity and heat of the act held a visceral satisfaction that left both boys longing for more, much more, and as soon as possible.

Sometimes 'more' was slow and sensuous, one step at a time, one fleeting touch at a time, tentative and halting and often ending in no more than the briefest of kisses. It depended on how rushed they were, and also on how much homework they had, because Remus always got his homework in on time.

In the nights, they started to risk a few hours in each other's beds, but they didn't go further than kissing and holding each other close until they fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms, till Remus's watch alarm went off and it was time for Sirius to sneak back to his own bed.

Price: one Muggle watch (See note). December, Sixth Year.

They came into breakfast a bit late, walking rather too close together, giggling. The teachers may have suspected they were on drugs, if they had thought about it, but they didn't, because this was Hogwarts, and a lot of pupils here acted strange sometimes, usually because they'd been hexed or jinxed.

Sirius was pulling at Remus's wrist. 'For heaven's sake, Pads! Don't do that. Everyone will be gossiping about us.'

'Nonsense. C'mon, Moony, let me see.'

Remus slipped off his watch. 'Okay, okay. It's nothing interesting, Sirius.'

It wasn't; it was a cheap digital watch, of the sort that was mass-produced in the mid and late seventies, with a simple quartz mechanism that made it suitable for use at Hogwarts. It had probably not cost more than a fiver, and the brown leather strap was already fraying.

They got to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to each other. While Remus ate his way through a plateful of sausages and tomatoes, Sirius toyed with a bowl of cornflakes, fascinated by his new toy.

'I love the way it hasn't got a round face with numbers.'

Remus snorted. 'That's cos it's digital, you pillock.'

'Moony, how d'you work the alarm?'

'You don't. I do. Don't mess about with it, Padfoot. You'll break it, and then I'll keep being late for everything.'

Sirius edged closer to his bestest, dearest friend. After James, of course. Or perhaps even before James these days. 'Oh, but you liked being late this morning.'

Remus went red. 'Shut up. Peter is giving us very strange looks.'

'He always does.'

The watch was spirited into some hidden pocket in Sirius's robes, and Remus never saw it again. He assumed that it had been lost long ago, or broken and chucked out. Sirius could be very careless with other people's belongings.

_Note: The Muggle watch in question is part of the estate of the late Sirius Black, and was found in full working order among his personal possessions. We have therefore withdrawn the interest due on this item._

Price: a sliver of James Potter's friendship. Paid, December, Sixth Year. 

The holidays fell comfortably between two full moons – 'comfortably' perhaps not being quite the right adverb, because the December moon had been the occasion of Sirius's prank on Snape. However, Remus and Sirius had plotted for some time to stay at school, especially when they found that they would be the only Gryffindors still at Hogwarts. The plan was to further their sex lives, because even with four-poster beds, silencing spells and watch alarms (now gone, and replaced by a nasty, wailing Siren charm Remus had been forced to implement) there was no real privacy in the middle of a bustling school.

Unfortunately, James really, really wanted Sirius to stay with him and help him cope with the annual influx of Potter relatives. James could be very persuasive when he pulled out all the stops. He enticed Sirius with tales of miraculous crackers that exploded in showers of stars, tumbling out jokes so funny you couldn't stop laughing, stockings bulging with gifts like remembralls and sneakascopes and dungbombs and fodder for pranks that would cost an arm and a leg at Zonko's.

When tea was long over and there was still an hour to go till dinner, James regaled Sirius with talk of turkeys roasted to golden perfection, geese stuffed with apples, ducks with crispy skin and cherry sauce, puddings dripping with brandy, cake studded with cherries and pecans and pineapple, that came owl-order from a wizarding company in Texas.

He also spoke of Quidditch practice in the back garden, flying at night, the many ways to trick unwary families and friends, the simple companionship of sharing a bedroom with your very best mate and friend and being able to talk and laugh all night if you wanted to, without pesky Peter grumbling or Remus threatening to hex you if you didn't bloody SHUT UP.

But of course, this was the point at which Sirius ceased to be tempted, and always stumbled. It was precisely the thought of Remus at night that gave Sirius the strength to look James in the eye and honestly tell him that he didn't want to impose himself on the Potters during a time for family.

Remus was supposed to spend Christmas with his aunt, but after he had embroiled her and McGonagall in his absolute refusal to keep up with Potions, no matter what, relations between them had been frostier than usual. She was quite happy, when all was said and done, to allow her troublesome nephew to stay under the care of Hogwarts while she visited her oldest friend, a witch called Amelia whom Remus disliked even more than his aunt.

There were a few minutes on December 23rd when James hesitated, hovered at the door of the common room for a fraction too long. 'You'll miss the train, mate,' Sirius said, from his chair by the fire.

'Maybe I should stay too. It's not going to be half as much fun without you.'

Remus could see Sirius's heart sinking. And this was the defining moment in the marauders, though James didn't know it, the moment when Sirius's loyalties divided themselves, not neatly but in a complex and potentially messy fashion. 'Come on, Prongs, don't be an idiot.' He lowered his voice, but Remus heard him anyway. 'You know what Moony is. We'll probably spend the whole holiday writing essays and getting ahead with work.'

'You sure you'll be okay? Really, Padfoot, you don't have to feel you must stay.'

'I'll be fine. Just _go_.'

And James finally picked up his case, pushed the portrait-hole open, and left. Remus could feel his slight hostility prickling at the back of his neck for the rest of the day.

Price: virginity/technical virginity. Paid in instalments, Hogwarts, Sixth Year.

It snowed again that morning, snowed until the Hogwarts Express had started its journey south, with James safely aboard, and then the snow abruptly turned to rain, and for the next week the sky leaked incessantly. The Hogwarts grounds were waterlogged, the cellar flooded, and all outdoor activity, such as the traditional snowball fight, had to be postponed indefinitely.

For Remus and Sirius, the weather was perfect, befitting their intention of getting to know each other better by means of having as many orgasms as they could in the shortest time possible, a common goal for hormonal boys with a few empty days on their hands, and a more exciting goal if there were two of you.

After lunch on the first day, they retired to the dormitory and spent the next few hours lying on Remus's bed, which was nearest the fire, achieving their aim with the minimum of sophistication, by means of hands and mouths and skin and kissing until their lips were sore and swollen. They took a break for supper; because so few people were staying, they didn't dare draw attention to themselves by skipping meals. However, Dumbledore gave them a couple of sharp, not altogether pleasant looks as they ate, their chairs perhaps rather too close considering that there were only seven students sitting at the long table.

Sirius had acquired a dubious Muggle book from some mail-order firm when it became clear that he and Remus would be going a lot further than just kissing, and after rushing through their puddings, they went back to the dorm, and lay in bed together looking through it, rather aghast.

'Will we have to do that?' Remus asked, dismayed, pointing at a very detailed illustration. 'It all looks awfully anatomical.'

'Course it's anatomical,' Sirius laughed. 'Didn't you ever have The Talk?'

Remus looked blank. 'No. What's that?'

'Oh, I forgot. Your aunt wouldn't know, probably.'

'Neither would your mother,' Remus retorted, rather stung.

'How do you know that, if you don't even know what The Talk is?' Sirius taunted him. 'Oh, well, actually, you're right. My father gave me The Talk. It's all about carrying on the bloodline and how to do it properly.'

'That would be with a girl,' Remus pointed out. 'And I do know about it, actually. It's probably a lot easier with a girl,' he went on gloomily, flicking through the book.

'Where's your sense of adventure, Moony? You don't like girls, anyway.'

'Neither do you. I like some girls.'

'So do I. Listen, lots of guys do it together. Otherwise they wouldn't have written this book, would they?'

'I wouldn't call it _written_,' Remus protested. 'It's mainly a set of instructions. And I'd prefer it without the illustrations.'

'Stop making such a fuss.' Sirius leaned over, plucked the book from Remus's hands and threw it down on the floor. 'There. Bad book. All gone.' He rolled on top of Remus and ran his lips and tongue slowly down Remus's neck, making him groan. 'Listen. We are just bloody going to do it, okay?

'It's going to hurt.'

'No it isn't. Promise. Anyway, you'll get your turn on top too.'

'I'd better.'

'You will. Just relax.'

It wasn't easy, and it took them a while to get there. And it bloody well did hurt, Remus decided, gritting his teeth.

But desire and passion go a long way to obviating lack of technique. They were very close; they were very aroused; they were in love; and, when all was said and done, the book was actually rather helpful.

Price: hearing a confession. Paid, December, Sixth Year. 

The two boys lay in the bed by the fire, talking quietly, sated and half asleep. 'D'you still think it'd be easier with a girl?' Sirius teased.

'Well, it may be. But it worked, didn't it?'

Sirius grinned. 'Yes, it worked just fine. And it was so, so much better than with a girl. No comparison.'

'How would you know?' Remus sat up abruptly, his senses alert, quite ready to take a huge blow to his heart, which was suddenly beating at twice its normal rate.

'Oh, shit.'

'Yeah, oh, shit indeed, Padfoot. What was that all about?'

'Do you really want to hear?'

'I think I'd better.'

Sirius lay on his back and looked up at the canopy. The curtains weren't drawn, and in the firelight Remus looked like a golden, dangerous beast.

'Remember I told you about how my mother said I was perverted and sick? Well, you know, I was really trying to be normal. With James and all. James was doing his best to cheer me up, and he always goes out a lot in the holidays.'

Remus refused to be sidetracked into discussing James. 'Get to the point, Sirius. Or I will jinx you to hell and back.'

'All right. It was when I was at the Potters' last summer. Obviously. About a week after I left home. James and I went to a party, and there was this girl – '

'Is she at Hogwarts?'

'No, it was a Muggle party. Before you ask, James does know one or two Muggles. The Potters aren't the Blacks. Thank God. Anyway, she obviously fancied me. And she was really quite pretty. And James was watching us. I mean, when we were talking, before you ask. Not after that. He just seemed sort of curious about what I'd do. And I was still trying not to focus on you, so I really wanted to get off with this girl. Just to prove something to myself. Okay, and to James. So, well, I did.'

'What was it like?'

'Remus Lupin, I can't believe you're asking that question! What d'you mean, what was it like?'

'I'm not talking _Turkish_, Padfoot.'

'Uh, well, it was okay. I mean, it wasn't like some deep, emotional thing. I did know her name, but that was about it. And she was really throwing herself at me.'

'Yeah, but what did it feel like?'

'Not a tenth as good as it did with you,' Sirius said emphatically. 'No comparison. Well, I already said that. And you and I are friends, aren't we? At the very least. Close personal friends, as James's mum would say. This girl was just – not even an acquaintance.'

'God, that's a bit cold, isn't it? What if she got pregnant?'

'She won't. She didn't.'

'How do you know? Have you been in touch with her?'

'Remus, this isn't the fucking inquisition! I haven't. But James knows her vaguely, and he'd certainly tell me. I did ask her, you know, and she told me not to worry about it. All those Muggle girls are on the pill. That's something that stops them getting pregnant, I gather.'

'Like a sort of charm?'

'No. More like a potion, but you are totally ignorant about potions.'

'That's because I have to swallow so many of the bloody things every month.'

'And because you have less than zero aptitude for the subject, Moony. Hey, am I forgiven? You know I love _you_, don't you? Not anyone else. Certainly not some Muggle girl.'

'You always are forgiven, aren't you? You lead a charmed life.' Remus snuggled up to Sirius and put his arms round him. They went to sleep then, curled up together like two small children.

Interest: a kiss. March, Sixth Year. 

It was the beginning of March, two days after the full moon, and Remus was still feeling tired and shivery, even though it hadn't been such a bad month. Padfoot and Prongs had jollied him into the Forbidden Forest, where they played a bizarre game of Find the Rat; of course, Peter hadn't been idiot enough to try and evade them, but had been hidden snugly behind James's antlers throughout the night.

But the transformations were really painful. He wondered whether this was because of all the sex he'd been having with Sirius; perhaps some resultant rush of hormones had unsettled the wolf. At any rate, he spent a whole day and night in the infirmary, doped up on the wonderful potion Pomfrey called Golden Dreams, and emerged the following morning still feeling groggy.

Sirius, who had spent the past twenty-four hours sulking and miserable, greeted Remus with exultation, and at lunchtime they braved the cold, wrapped in their winter cloaks, and walked down to the far shore of the lake, which was out of bounds. There, Sirius worked a nice warming charm so the two boys were able to sit on the ground. He then pulled Remus close, cupped his face in his hand and kissed him passionately, and Remus kissed him back with equal passion, pain and discomfort forgotten as he held Sirius as tightly as he could, always terrified somewhere at the back of his mind that this beautiful love couldn't possibly last.

They sat there entwined for a long time, until the bell for afternoon school rang somewhere in the distance. Scrambling to their feet, they ran all the way back to the castle, tumbling into the Transfiguration classroom just as Professor McGonagall was starting the register.

Price: one prefect's badge. Paid, March, Sixth Year.

As one of two Gryffindor prefects, Remus had got to know Professor McGonagall's office quite well during the past year and a bit. He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. On the one hand, as head of Gryffindor, McGonagall tended toward red and gold colour schemes, which reminded Remus of the friendly warmth of the common room and dorm and lulled him into a sort of homely feeling. He also liked the large pine desk, and the vases of flowers dotted around on various surfaces, even in the dead of winter.

On the other hand, McGonagall's office was a bit unpredictable. The sofas would be transfigured into chairs from one day to the next, the curtains might be long and gold one evening, short and striped the next. What was more, the moving photos of all registered Animagi, showing the dizzying change from human to animal in a sort of hologram effect, always made Remus feel slightly seasick.

This evening, the Animagus pictures were ominously still, stuck in their human forms. The chairs were upright and uncomfortable, and there were two of them, facing McGonagall at her mercifully unchanging desk. On the two chairs sat Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, and they were in bad trouble.

McGonagall looked at them coldly, and they glanced at each other, with 'what the hell is all this about?' expressions.

'Right, I don't want to discuss this in detail any more than you do,' she snapped. 'I will tell you that it is about your behaviour at lunchtime today. I assume you both know what I'm talking about.'

Remus's first thought was 'Oh, God, Snape's been following us again, and this is going to be all over Slytherin.' He wondered whether it was worth their while denying everything, but McGonagall had already moved on.

'Mr Filch has given me a full – rather too full, actually – report about the incident. That is all I want to say about it.' She paused. 'Professor Dumbledore has asked me to speak to you about a couple of points raised by your conduct.

'Firstly, we do not encourage close personal friendships at this school. Of course, it's understandable that there will be romances at a _mixed_ school' – she stressed the 'mixed' --'but we prefer these to be confined to Seventh Years, who are of age. And preferably not until after NEWTs, of course.

'Now, Mr. Black, you are seventeen, so though we are obviously concerned about your behaviour, we can't do more than request that you look up Muggle and wizarding laws about the age of consent. As you're estranged from your family we're not going to inform them, but I would ask you to remember that you are still on probation after last term's incident.

'Mr. Lupin, you are underage, and therefore it is the school's responsibility to owl your guardian about this matter. It's up to her to decide what measures she wants to take about it. But the Headmaster and I agree that it's no longer appropriate for you to be a prefect.'

Remus was suddenly very cold. He fumbled with his badge, which was refusing to come undone. He could sense Sirius itching to lean over and take it off for him, but obviously he wasn't going to do that in the circumstances.

He didn't know what he felt, but it wasn't relief or disappointment. Embarrassment, of course; and emptiness, perhaps. Being a prefect, with its meetings and duties, occupied a lot of time, and he now had to find a way to fill it. Sirius's Quidditch ban had given them plenty of opportunities to do stuff well away from James and Peter, and perhaps not being a prefect anymore could also be seen as a good thing. But if the staff had their eyes on him and Sirius, they would probably never even be able to _look_ at each other again.

He didn't even want to think about how his aunt would react to this latest event. After he insisted on giving up his Potions OWL retake, she had almost stopped owling him, which was fine by him, but sometimes a bit scary, seeing as she was his only living relative.

'I think that's sufficient punishment for you, Remus,' McGonagall said, suddenly transfiguring herself from bad cop to good cop. She even sounded sympathetic, which made Remus feel a bit tearful; he certainly didn't want to feel tearful, not here or now.

'Sirius' – what was with the sudden switch anyway? -- 'as you were out of bounds, I am going to give you a Saturday afternoon detention and you will miss the next Hogsmeade weekend.'

'Is that it?' Sirius demanded.

'Excuse me?'

'Well, it seems a bit unfair. Lupin loses his prefect's badge, and I get a detention.'

Remus half expected McGonagall to say 'I'll give Lupin a detention too, if you like,' but of course she didn't. 'Mr Lupin had more to lose because he was in a position of responsibility.'

'It still doesn't seem right.'

'Look, Mr. Black, Professor Dumbledore could expel you like a shot if he wanted to. It's up to you.'

Sirius shrugged.

'I'll take that to mean you accept your punishment. I don't want to hear any more about you two misbehaving. Is that understood?'

Sirius said, 'Yes, Professor McGonagall.' Remus said nothing. His voice wouldn't work.

McGonagall stood up, bringing the interview to a close. She was slightly flushed, her lips compressed. In spite of her authoritative tone, she glanced rather uncertainly at the two boys, obviously at a loss as to why they would want to kiss each other when there was a world of pretty girls out there, in classrooms and common rooms and corridors, at meals and on Hogsmeade visits, most of whom fancied Sirius rotten and quite a few of whom fancied Remus.

One of the Animagus pictures on the wall transformed abruptly with a loud pop, making McGonagall and the two boys jump. 'That will be all, run along now,' McGonagall said, flustered, waving her arms.

At least, Remus thought savagely, she seemed as embarrassed as he was by the whole deal. Served her right, too.

Interest: a reassuring conversation. March, Sixth Year. 

Up in the dorm, Remus sat down heavily on his bed, and Sirius perched beside him and put his arm around him. 'God, that was a bit harsh.'

'Especially as we were only kissing,' Remus said bitterly.

Sirius hugged Remus to him more tightly. 'Yeah, but you know, Moony, some of the stuff we do actually is illegal. Especially if you're only sixteen. I could probably get put in Azkaban for corrupting a minor.'

Remus's heart contracted painfully. 'Does that mean we have to stop?'

Sirius looked astounded. 'Since when do we stop doing something just because it's illegal? We're marauders, aren't we? Anyway, I don't think you could say 'only' kissing. As kisses go, it was pretty amazing, wasn't it?'

Remus nodded, his head against Sirius's chest. 'You know, Pads, we're going to have to research a few alarm spells. We could try using the siren I found to replace my watch. Though it may be a bit too loud. And we can look at force-fields, that sort of thing. So if there's a Filch or a Snape within a hundred yards we'll know before they can catch us.'

It would, he decided, be a very useful way of spending all this spare time he was going to have, especially if Sirius helped, and they could work in the library late at night when even the staff had gone to bed.

At dinner, James thumped Sirius on the back, and said, 'Oi, what was that audience with McGonagall about? What have you and Moony been up to?'

Sirius looked so blank that Remus, off the top of his head, concocted what seemed at the time to be a reasonable story, that he and Sirius had been caught red-handed making Polyjuice Potion to turn Snape and various other Slytherins into squirrels. 'It was for, for Padfoot to chase at the next full moon,' Remus babbled.

James queried this at first. 'Come on, you're not telling me Moony made Polyjuice Potion?'

'No, Prongs. I made the potion. But it was Moony's idea, and he stole most of the ingredients.'

'Well, I suppose you've got to do something, now you've been banned from Quidditch,' James conceded, and he and Peter agreed that this was a fitting reason for Remus to be demoted

Price: Howler from an indignant aunt. Paid, March, Sixth Year.

Remus didn't wanted to go to breakfast at all; he knew that it wouldn't be too long before people noticed that he wasn't wearing his prefect's badge, and by lunchtime the news would be all round the school. He just hoped that nobody would ever have the faintest inkling what had really happened.

But Sirius got angry with him. 'You bloody coward. What's the point of skipping breakfast? Then you'll have to skip lessons, and then you'll just be spending your whole time in the Shack. No better than if you'd been expelled. You might as well get it over with.'

He held Remus very close, stroking his hair, and murmured in his ear, 'James and Peter could see me doing this at any moment. Shall I call them? I could give them the full story. I will if you don't get your robes on and come down with me right now.'

Remus pushed him away. 'Oh, all right. But I am going to be really annoyed if anyone asks me about that wretched badge.'

The owls circled the Great Hall, taking care to drop their letters and parcels on tables rather than in plates and bowls and jugs: quite a hard undertaking for a bird not noted for great intelligence.

Remus hadn't heard from his aunt since just before Christmas, when she sent him a card containing five galleons and an injunction to be good and work hard. So his heart sank when he recognised her tawny owl hovering over his cup of tea. 'Oh, no, Sirius, she's sent me –'

But the Howler exploded before he could finish.

_Remus Lupin, I cannot believe your disgusting behaviour. How dare you lose your prefect's badge for such filth? If your parents were alive they would disown you. _

'Just in case anyone in the school didn't know,' Remus muttered. He then said 'Stupid cunt' loudly enough for most of the Gryffindor table to hear, and emit a collective gasp of 'Lupin!'

'What was your disgusting behaviour? What's she mean, 'filth'?' Peter asked with interest.

'We told you,' said Sirius. 'And remember, we weren't supposed to breath a word to anyone, so shut up about it.'

'But I don't see how it's filthy or disgusting,' Peter persisted.

'Then you haven't tasted Polyjuice Potion,' Remus said. 'Can we change the subject? I never want to hear the p word again.'

'Prefect or Polyjuice?'

'Both.'

The following day, James Potter was made prefect for Gryffindor, and began the journey towards his early grave. The reason for this was that Lily would now start to see him in a different light, and their romance would blossom.

Remus didn't feel guilty about James's fate, of course, because he didn't know. Once he got used to the idea of not being a prefect any more, he stopped being pissed off or resentful, because all he had ever wanted in his life was to go to school and be normal, like other wizards. And as he had school _and_ Sirius, he felt doubly blessed.

Price: rumours. Paid, Sixth Year onward. 

For the next few days, Remus and Sirius made a point of sitting as far from each other as they could in lessons, aware that the professors were probably monitoring their every move. They didn't realise that this only increased the number of times they glanced at each other, until Peter asked worriedly, 'What is it with you two? Every time I look up you're staring into each other's eyes.' Sirius replied, 'That's because we love each other very, very much.' Peter went red and snapped, 'Not funny, Sirius! It isn't a joke.'

They were sitting in the common room doing their homework. Sirius risked a peek at Remus, but Remus was concentrating on his Charms essay. He was humming happily to himself as he wrote his name, the date and the title neatly at the top of a roll of parchment and underlined them.

James frowned at Sirius and wondered aloud why he had to be so flippant all the time, and it wasn't fair on Moony to keep giving the poor bloke the impression that he had a big smudge on his face or something. But actually, he was annoyed with his best friend for fuelling the flames, because there was plenty of gossip going round about Sirius and Remus after the Howler. Filch wasn't saying anything, of course, just grumbling as usual, but everyone had heard Remus's aunt's message, and lot of people had seen McGonagall summoning the two boys to her office, so they quite astutely put two and two together.

'Wormtail, if you hear anyone say a word about Sirius or Remus, you're to hex them,' James instructed him. Peter may have been a little disappointed -- he enjoyed gossip – but he always obeyed James. James was especially irritated at the derogatory rumours about his straight friend Sirius. 'I don't even want to think about it,' he said, putting his hands over his ears during Defence, when one of the Slytherins asked him, with genuine curiosity, whether his two best friends really were having it off in the dorm every night.

Obviously, Remus and Sirius didn't hear the gossip, as it was about them. They didn't help matters, though, when they took to disappearing for hours on end at the weekends, taking the Map with them, and coming back to the castle flushed and dishevelled and late for dinner.

'Let's make losing that prefect's badge worthwhile,' Sirius used to say.

Price: constant vigilance. Sixth and Seventh Year.

It took a few weeks – the research, in the furthest, most deserted reaches of the library was constantly interrupted by kisses, and more – but eventually Remus and Sirius came up with a perfect Guardian charm, that warned them through sound and vibration whenever anybody was close enough to intercept them at an inconvenient moment. Its action was similar to that of a Muggle mobile phone twenty-five years into the future.

For the rest of their time at Hogwarts, they used this spell every time they wanted some privacy, and it never failed to work. Which was why they spent so many hours in the library, and Sirius got the unexpected, belated, and unjustified reputation for being a bookworm.

Price: one unanswerable question. Hogwarts, Seventh Year.

James was snuffling in his sleep and Peter was snoring, but Sirius and Remus didn't hear them, as the bed by the fire was surrounded by a very powerful silencing charm. Remus was just thinking about how tired he was, when Sirius asked, 'Why are there only ugly words for something so beautiful?'

'Dunno,' said Remus. 'Maybe it's because most people are ignorant.'

'Stupid,' Sirius said. 'Straight people have all sorts of flowery expressions about sex.

We have words like buggery and sodomy, which never sound like anything desirable. And pederasty.'

'Pederasty's with children,' Remus pointed out.

'Know-all.' Sirius leered. 'Shame you're of age now, Moony.'

'As long as there's love in there somewhere, the words don't matter,' Remus said, not quite looking at Sirius, twisting a corner of the sheet round his right hand, like a bandage, though it was nowhere near the full moon.

'Oh, there's plenty of love,' Sirius said. 'What the hell are you doing with that sheet? You'll tear it, and the house-elves will complain.'

**End of Part I**


	2. Part 2

**The Cost of Loving  
By Minnow **

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and various publishers and corporations.  
**Summary**: Scenes from a relationship: a picaresque account of R/S.  
**Pairing**: Remus/Sirius  
**Era**: MWPP to Azkaban  
**Spoilers**: The Harry Potter series.  
**Rating**: R

**The Cost of Loving  
Part II **

**Interest: life after Hogwarts.**

The flat, the famous flat, was in a wizarding block near Diagon Alley, a fantasy of Gothic turrets and stained glass, high Victorian ceilings, nooks and crannies, wooden curlicues and arches round the mantel, and tiled fireplaces that could be quite painful to Floo to.

Sirius was eighteen, Remus seventeen, and they therefore went for a naturalist look: that is, they acquired furniture and kitchen gadgets on an as and when basis, with little thought as to aesthetics. The most important item was the bed, which used up more than their budget for furnishing the whole flat. But it was a large and comfortable bed, not a four-poster – they'd done four-posters – but carved with strange garlands and astral symbols.

The bed was worth all the money, because they spent an awful lot of time in it, honing the skills they had practised at every possible opportunity at school. It was good to be able to lie so close, so wanting, to kiss for hours until desire blurred everything else, needing each other so desperately that in spite of the orgasms that left them breathless and shattered, they were never quite satiated, and would reach for each again and again through the night.

For the first few months out of school they were both permanently exhausted, with dark circles under their eyes, and would sleep at any opportunity during the day.

After Hogwarts, they continued to keep their secret; though Remus didn't like to admit it, secrecy gave the affair added piquancy. It was fun, on the very rare occasions when James, with or without Lily, visited their flat, to keep up the pretence that they used both bedrooms, and hint at the hordes of women they entertained in their spare time.

Not that there was much spare time for very long. Sirius was soon occupied with the intricacies of machinery: as part of his ongoing rebellion against the House of Black, he took a job in the purely Muggle world of mechanics, working at a local garage that specialised in motorbikes. He learned to spot a bargain, and picked up his own motorbike there at a special discount. He smelled of oil and petrol, scents that Remus grew to love and seek out compulsively.

Remus was unable to get a job anywhere in the wizarding world, because every application form asked the blunt question: _Are you a werewolf?_ Not much room for manoeuvre there, Remus decided. His occasional Muggle jobs used to end abruptly after one full moon, sometimes even before, because he was often so edgy that he simply couldn't concentrate. At Waterstones, the Muggle bookshop, he was fired after one morning when he sold a complete set of Dickens novels for 50p. Well, Muggle money was quite complicated. Sirius actually understood it far better than he did.

As a result, Remus spent long periods working at home, eking out his existence with freelance proofreading of obscure wizarding texts with titles like _The Hidden Power of_ _Salamanders_, destined for a limited if discerning audience. He bought an old school desk with a cracked top and a hole for an inkwell, a Muggle item perfect for a wizard.

Generally, they lived on Sirius's inheritance. Though Remus had trouble with Muggle money, he was brilliant with wizarding finance; he had a knack for predicting market fluctuations, and advised Sirius so well on investments that they were both able to live easily on the interest. Sirius worked because he enjoyed his job, not because he needed his wages. If they had been together ten years in the future, Remus could have found a niche as a wizard stockbroker in the eighties boom and made a fortune.

Interest: a short period of teenage rebellion. 

Remus did punk for a while, though as a werewolf he was reluctant to go in for body-piercing: he pierced his own body quite enough every month, thank you. But he liked the spiky hair, and the torn t-shirts, and allowed his ear to be pierced to accommodate two gold ring earrings. He had been the good boy at Hogwarts, but of course he was also the wolf, who ran wild with his Animagus friends and giggled afterwards, in human form, about the wolf's many near misses. And he had been sleeping with Sirius for nearly the whole of the two final years at school, knowing full well that both of them would probably be expelled if they were caught out of line one more time. Punk was perfect for Remus, the quiet anarchist who hid behind his mask of innocence.

But punk was dying out, so he abandoned the look quite early on for the New Romantic look, which also suited him, though he kept the earrings, and even added a third. He dyed his hair black, wore kohl, eyeshadow and sometimes dark lipstick; he could have been mistaken for one of the current breed of rock-stars, so he was considered very cool by any girls with whom he worked during his brief forays into outside employment. He left the makeup off for interviews, of course, but that, coupled with his occasionally erratic behaviour, didn't help him hold down a job.

He liked the girls looking at him. When Sirius wasn't around, his attractiveness instantly rose by a notch or two. He didn't really mind when older men also looked at him, because he quite enjoyed being a pretty boy, as Sirius, obviously, appreciated that. He could never understand why Sirius found him beautiful, but he wasn't going to argue about it.

With his black hair, he felt they were like soul twins, closer than close. Sirius was very turned on by New Romantic Remus. They'd go out for a drink or to a party with friends, mainly other members of the Order, and after a couple of firewhiskys, Sirius would find it impossible to keep his eyes or hands off Remus; he would sneak glances at him from the other side of the room, and then come over and grab his arm and pull him into an empty bedroom; or, if they were in a pub, the men's lavatory. Then, their lovemaking would be rough and rapacious; and if he was wearing make-up, Remus's eyeshadow would smudge. Sirius would lick his finger and try to rub the smeared make-up off Remus's face, and as often as not that would lead to another bout of sex; less frenetic, but as they were usually in a semi-public place when this occurred, they were constrained to be as fast and quiet as possible. It wasn't always a good idea to cast warning or silencing spells in a public loo.

'Ah, you're such a sweet, androgynous wolf!' Sirius teased once, rubbing his forehead against Remus's after they'd made love with some abandon in someone's boxroom at one of the parties.

'Not androgynous,' Remus protested, shoving Sirius hard in the ribs; hard enough that Sirius yelped. 'Got everything there.'

Sirius laughed. 'Yes, and how! But you do look so, so… Gorgeous. Lush. Mmmm…'

Remus knew that his time for rebellion would be short: after all, he was a member of the Order of Phoenix now; he would have to wash the dye out of his hair soon, conform to what was expected of him. He would have to lose the earrings. Even Sirius was starting to treat life as not such a lark any more. The darkness was closing in.

**Price: betrayal. James, a month before his wedding.**

Remus was early, as usual. He hated being early. He really strove to be late, really tried to live up to his unconventional persona at that point in time, but underneath his façade, the qualities of punctuality, reliability, and yes, dammit, some vestiges of responsibility, still blossomed fiercely.

Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the open door, illuminating a charmed path between the rough wooden tables, the horse-brasses above the bar, the bottles of enchanted and enchanting liqueurs winking their bright colours behind the counter.

He debated starting on the firewhisky straight away, but then remembered that he had, this month, a job to go to, stacking shelves in a Muggle supermarket, so he settled for cranberry juice, and nursed his glass in his seat by the window in the Leaky Cauldron.

He was really looking forward to seeing Sirius. He told himself that was why his heart sank a bit when James walked into the pub, looking round expectantly. After all, Prongs was one of his oldest, dearest friends. He loved Prongs dearly. Okay, in his most honest moments Remus admitted that since Christmas of Sixth Year, he had felt a bit guilty, because he had in effect stolen James's best friend. Which wasn't really the case, anyway, because Sirius still liked James best. He _loved_ James best. It was just that he loved Remus in a completely different way. Remus didn't want to feel screwed up about it.

And, he reminded himself, James didn't even _know_.

The two friends greeted each other cordially, and James went to the bar to get a beer. Of course, Remus thought, James would start off with beer.

They sat on opposite sides of the table, nursing their drinks. For some reason, James seemed as ill-at-ease as Remus, who felt it incumbent on himself to make conversation.

'So how're the wedding plans going?' That was always good for a few minutes. And since when had he felt constrained talking to James, of all people? He'd find Sirius difficult next.

'Oh, fine. I must say, Remus, you look a lot like Sirius with your hair that colour.'

'Right. Not really. I mean, Sirius has grey eyes, and he's an inch taller, and he wouldn't wear earrings, though he has got that tattoo, and – '

'Oh, well, you'd know,' said James. 'I suppose it's some sort of deliberate bonding thing?'

Remus choked on his juice. 'What d'you mean?'

'Oh, come on, Remus. Padfoot doesn't keep secrets from me.'

'He should keep _my_ secrets from you!' Remus spluttered out, slamming his glass down on the table, stalking out of the pub, bumping into bloody Sirius of all people just outside the door. 'Moony, hi! Hey, aren't you coming in?' Remus found himself enveloped in a big hug. He shoved Sirius away. 'Moony, what's wrong?'

'_You_ are wrong. Stupid fucker! Don't you ever learn? Well, I'm not forgiving you this time. This is_ it_.'

'Oh. You've been talking to Prongs.'

'Damn right I have. So have you, obviously. How could you?'

'Moony, he's my best mate.'

'How did I just know you'd say that? Well, go and fuck _him_ if you love him so much!' Remus snarled. 'I'm out of it.'

He stayed away for a week. During that time, he let an older man, who must have been all of thirty, take him home and screw him. It was good, but not as good as it was with Sirius. Besides, the older man was a Muggle – though a very handsome Muggle – and wouldn't have understood how somebody could be a werewolf. He was one of the men who shopped at the supermarket and said 'Hello' to Remus as he stacked shelves. He lived in a big detached white house in Notting Hill Gate, a house so large that Remus got lost a couple of times between the bathroom and the bedroom. Remus stayed with him for three days and nights, then wandered off again, wishing he could go home and have a bath in his own bathtub and sleep in his own bed. He also wished, not for the first time, that he'd been in on the Animagus work. It would have been good voluntarily to become an animal for a while. He hated the wolf in many ways, but it was refreshingly simple. Being human was sometimes almost too much to bear.

**Price: not quite enough information about James. **

'Why, Sirius? I thought we'd agreed to keep it secret.'

'C'mon, Moony! James isn't an _idiot_. He does notice if we keep disappearing at parties and things. And he knows we're sharing the flat. And, yes, I did think he was far too wrapped up in Lily to take in anything else, but obviously not. It was really because he keeps trying to fix me up with girls, and I finally had to let him know I wasn't interested. That's when he actually twigged about you and me. But I did have to spell it out. A bit. Well, a lot. Because he doesn't quite understand how we could be together.'

'Then why didn't you just leave him to his ignorance? Honestly, Padfoot – '

'You're gonna love this, Moony. James set us up with a double date with two friends of Lily's. Yours was hand-picked, cos she's mad about that singer all the girls are raving about, and you're supposed to look just like him, with the hair and all. Prongs took a lot of time and trouble over it. Or rather, Lily did, I suppose. I couldn't sit back and allow you to be molested by some groupie, could I?'

'I could handle it. So how did James react when you told him?'

'Better than you'd think. I mean, I always suspected he was a bit homophobic. It must feel weird, finding your two best mates are having it off. If you'd found out that James and I were having it off, you'd be freaked out, wouldn't you? Well, of course you would. That was a stupid question. But actually, he did a double take, then he said that Lily had asked him about us, and since then he'd been wondering… I think that Lily probably said a lot more, because he didn't seem really surprised. Like he'd had time to rant and rave to her, and get over it. Because I would have expected him to go into shock, then be disgusted, then pretend he didn't really mind. You know, the full gamut.'

'So from now on am I 'Remus' to James, or even 'Lupin'?'

'Nah, he'll come round. Just wait, he'll start calling you 'Moony' again in no time. Just call him Prongs, and it'll be fine. Honestly. Anyway, I call you 'Remus'. But that's because nobody else does, and it seems more personal. So now I'll have to call you Moony all the time, won't I? Depends what Peter's calling you. Are you still with me here, Moony?'

'That was just a manner of speech, Pads. What I mean is does James hate me? Dislike me, rather.'

'Of course he doesn't. You're his friend. Don't look at me like that. If you really want me to be honest, I have to say I don't know. I think he may be a bit jealous of you. But once he and Lily are actually hitched, he'll be fine. Really. And don't get it into your head that you'll be sulking and refuse to go to the wedding. I need you there. A best man needs his best man. Okay, I thought that was quite funny. You're not running off again, either. I've got you back and you're staying right where you are. Stop scowling. Come here, and give me a big smile. There, that's better…'

**Price: guilt. Paid, with interest.**

His hair was back to its usual tawny colour. His makeup was in the bin. He was plain Remus Lupin again; though the earrings stayed. Not plain, perhaps, but not fancy either. Not any more.

He lay awake beside Sirius, running through the details of his infidelity in his mind. Now, when Sirius touched him, he could feel, like a ghost, the other man touching him, in the same places, in almost the same way, only without the depths of feeling, the heat that Sirius generated. It was strange, like being with two people at the same time.

Sirius telling James had been nothing, really, not compared to sleeping with someone else, and actually quite enjoying it, though Remus didn't admit that to himself. But just occasionally, on the edge of an orgasm, he would remember vividly some sensation the handsome stranger had evoked, and come more violently than usual, shaking and crying out Sirius's name. He suspected that he had also cried out Sirius's name in the white house in Notting Hill, but he tried not to think about it.

He knew he would never tell Sirius; in this relationship, Sirius was to be the one who erred, Remus the one who forgave. Above all, he didn't ever want to give Sirius any reason to leave him. He could give his body to anyone, but only Sirius had power over his soul.

He shuffled over, laid his head on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius sighed in his sleep, relaxed, put an arm reflexively round Remus, snuggled closer, and they lay there, Remus still wide awake, until the alarm went, and Sirius knocked it off the bedside table trying to find the switch.

**Price: an uncomfortable conversation.**

'I know there was someone else, Remus,' Sirius whispered late in the night, soon after Remus's return. 'But it's okay.'

Remus, agitated, fumbled for his wand under the pillow, mumbled 'Lumos', checked Sirius's face to see if he were joking.

'Why would you think that, Pads?' he asked carefully.

'Oh, come on, Wolfboy. I'm a dog, remember. Sometimes. I've been smelling someone else on you since you came back.'

'I was angry. It didn't mean anything.'

'I know you were. I shouldn't have told James about us. Not without asking you first.'

'Sirius. Why are you being so reasonable?'

'Why're _you_ so suspicious? I just don't want to make a big deal about it. Don't want to lose you.' Sirius's eyes were brighter than usual in the wand-light.

Remus sighed. 'Now I've hurt you, haven't I?'

'Well, I hurt you. Don't tell me again how reasonable I'm being. I know.'

Remus sat bolt upright. 'Lily. You've been talking to Lily, right?'

'Maybe. Sometimes a woman's advice is good, you know.'

'Sometimes. Can we not discuss it?'

'Why not? Was it that bad?'

'No, Padfoot. It was okay.'

'I s'pose you always need a secret, Moony, don't you?'

'No, I don't. What's that all about?'

'Dunno. Just, you like secrets, don't you? There's the werewolf thing –'

'Yeah, Sirius, I really love that one! For God's sake.'

'I didn't mean you love being a werewolf. I meant that you were used to having a secret. Then there was us. Well, McGonagall knew a bit, but she didn't know the half of it.'

'I think the whole bloody school probably knew, now I think of it.'

'Aww, Moony, nobody had the faintest. James was amazed when I told him. But that was your last secret, wasn't it? As far as I know. So you needed to have a new secret.'

'Dr. Freud, that is total rubbish. I was pissed off. Some guy fancied me. That's about it. Nothing as deep as creating new secrets. If I ever do have a secret, you always seem to give it away, anyway.'

'Did he make you feel like I do?' Sirius ran his tongue over Remus's lips, barely touching them, moved his fingers slowly down Remus's spine, making Remus shiver and press against him.

'No,' Remus choked, when he was able to speak again. 'It was a _thing_, Padfoot. It was completely meaningless.'

Remus didn't know why he felt so sad and empty, in that case. He felt as if a precious piece of china had broken, and it was his fault. He wished he knew how to fix it. But he was a nineteen year-old boy, and he didn't have a clue what to do to make everything right again. He did tell Sirius he loved him, and Sirius seemed to understand what he was trying to say.

Interest: a wedding. 

Many contradictory accounts existed of Lily and James Potter's wedding. Sometimes, it was a big, lavish Muggle production; sometimes, it was a wizarding wedding, with fantastic displays of magic, and real fairies flitting among the Japanese lanterns as evening fell. Sometimes, it was a stringent, wartime wedding in front of a registrar, just James, Lily and their best man, Sirius.

Lily variously wore a white wedding dress, wizarding dress-robes or a severe suit. On her head, she had a veil, a tiara, a small hat, nothing, and even a scarf: that was the countryside wedding in the depths of rural Sussex.

In fact, Lily and James were married quietly in a registry office. After all, Lily was a witch of Muggle descent marrying a pureblood wizard. Given the times she was living in, it was deemed cautious to keep the ceremony simple. Sirius was there, as best man. The few guests included the two immediate families, Remus and Peter.

Lily was wearing a simple cream coloured dress, and her hair was piled up on her head. She carried a bouquet of freesias, but she was nervous, fiddling with it, so some of the flowers came loose and dropped on the floor.

The wedding party had to wait in the reception room of the town hall, because the ceremonies were running a bit late. There was still one wedding to go before the Potter one: the Muggle bride was about six months pregnant, wearing a small tent, and arguing with an older woman, probably her mother, about whether or not she wanted to go through with it.

It was a sombre day, shades of grey and rain, not a ray of sunshine. Sirius was beaming, but the guests and the bride and bridegroom were as solemn as the weather, though Lily's red hair formed a vivid splash of colour across the dull morning. She and Sirius would make the best couple, Remus decided. None of the others stood out in any way.

But once the brief ceremony was over, the dark mood broke: the bride and groom were suddenly smiling, were radiant and in love, and certain that they would be happy forever; through the war against Voldemort, and beyond.

Price: exhaustion. Paid, first war against Voldemort.

While he was still working at the supermarket, Remus saw the other man a few times; even after Remus reverted to his normal colouring, the man still smiled at him and sometimes tried to engage him in conversation, but Remus would turn away and examine price labels closely until he was sure the man had gone on down the next aisle. He left that job quite soon, as he left all his jobs, and didn't get another one, because the Order needed him full time.

After a while, a smattering of guilt, a smidgen of infidelity didn't matter any more, because they were all going to die, and Voldemort or his minions were going to kill them. Remus sometimes wondered why he had worried about his brief fling in the first place.

When Regulus was killed, Sirius became more driven, throwing himself into Order business like there was no tomorrow: and possibly there wasn't.

Remus thought Sirius was a spy for the Order, but he wasn't quite sure, because none of the members was allowed to let any of the others know what they were doing. Remus himself was liasing with vampires and fellow werewolves, with dark creatures who responded best to another of their kind. He hated his long periods away from home and from Sirius. He was tired, and he was sick a lot of the time, because there was no chance to sleep off transformations.

He and Sirius still occasionally had time to make love, and it was still love then, no matter what else they might call it to stave off inconvenient feelings. Because this wasn't a war that would be won by feelings: it was a war of nerve and nerves, of intuition and guerrilla cunning.

Sex was as good as ever – better, often, because so much less frequent – but it was different. Like school again, when they were always on the verge of being found out, always had to keep track of meals, of the next lesson, when there was never enough time. They had come full circle.

**Interest: a day off. August 1980.**

The tube station was crowded with Muggles that Saturday morning, and they kept a tight hold of each other's hands so they wouldn't get lost. Neither of them cared, if they noticed, that many of the people waiting for the southbound Jubilee Line train were giving them looks that ranged from curious to hostile.

They fought their way on to the train, managing just to squeeze in, and stood close to the double doors as the tube clanked through the darkness.

'Remind me why we're doing this,' Remus groaned, as they were disgorged on to the platform at Oxford Circus.

'Hang on to me, Moony. We're getting a present for the baby.'

'Right.' Remus's mouth curved into a smile. 'What should we get the baby that has everything?'

'Except a name. He's probably going to be Simon, after James's father. But Lily's holding out for Harry.'

'Lily'll win,' Remus predicted. 'She always does.'

Sirius put his arm round Remus's shoulder, which, he reasoned, was within the bounds of acceptable behaviour. Remus didn't object. They made their way up Oxford Street, looking in the shop windows. It was too hot for shopping, though the crowds thronging the pavements didn't seem to think so. It was too hot to do anything but nip down to Diagon Alley for an ice-cream soda at Florean Fortescue's.

'I want to get him one of those Muggle rattles. He's got about six magic ones, but they don't make quite the right noise,' Sirius said.

'Can't James or Lily put a suitable spell on them?' Remus asked.

'No. They're all spell-locked so that babies won't get hurt. Ministry safety regulations.'

Since the baby's birth at the end of July, Sirius had become a walking encyclopaedia about things like laws on toys, child development, even breast-feeding. Lily had nearly hexed his ears off when he offered to show her how to get the baby to latch on. Remus thought his poor Padfoot might feel a bit sad that he'd never have a child himself. Well, not in his current relationship, anyway. So Sirius was in effect sharing the new baby with James. He was going to be its godfather as well. It seemed a very solemn role for Sirius, but Remus was certain he could live up to it.

They went into the big branch of Mothercare near Bond Street. To Muggles, they undoubtedly looked like students, Remus supposed: they were the right age, and they were both scruffy enough in their old jeans. It was probably quite unusual for two students, one with his arm flung over the other one's shoulder, to be browsing in a baby shop among the pastel babygros and fluffy bunnies.

The manageress seemed to think so, because she approached them as soon as they appeared in the doorway. 'Are you young men looking for something?' she asked in a forbidding voice.

Sirius gave his killer smile. 'Yes, we are. We need a rattle for my godson.'

The woman melted, especially when Sirius removed his arm from Remus's shoulder in order to show her exactly what he wanted. 'One of these blue ones. But with the polka dots.'

'I don't think we have any blue ones left with the dots. We have some with very sweet kittens.'

Sirius shook his head. 'No kittens,' he said firmly. 'How about puppies?'

'Yes, we have puppies. I'll just go and check in the stockroom.'

Remus breathed in the strange, sweet scent of babies and talc and milk; a less concentrated essence of the smell in the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow. It seemed very odd to think that Prongs and Lily were settled, married and had a baby. It felt as if time was unravelling far too fast, that they all really should be living in this parallel Muggle world of universities and freedom, enjoying their youth before it was completely spent. But perhaps he and Sirius were as settled as Lily and James, in their own way. If one of them were a woman they could be shopping for their own baby, or even two of them. Remus, who liked Muggle arithmetic, started doing mental calculations about how many children he and Sirius could have had by now. Probably about three. He wondered if they would take it in turns to have them, because he sure as hell wouldn't volunteer every time.

Sirius pounced on him, grinning like a maniac. 'Look, Moony, isn't that just perfect?' He held aloft a rattle shaped like a dog's head, with blue puppies scattered all over it. 'Listen.' He shook it enthusiastically, and Remus imagined he could hear, far in the distance, the faint suspirations of the sea.

Sirius paid, dazzled the manageress with one more beautiful smile, took Remus's hand again, without thinking, and they walked back along Oxford Street like that, not caring who saw, or who knew.

Price: a private life. Paid, 1980-81.

The next day, Sirius was sent to spy on a nest of suspected Death Eaters, most of them closely related to the Blacks. Remus had negotiations with a group of goblins in the Outer Hebrides. The baby didn't get his rattle until the following week, when Sirius had a free evening. Remus wasn't there, because his negotiations had run into problems. The two of them finally got together a month later, but by then the wizarding world was running downhill so fast that neither of them could keep up with it any more.

People were dying, a lot of people were dying, and it seemed as if someone in the Order was leaking information about them. Remus wondered if it might be Mundungus Fletcher, because he seemed the type who'd do anything for a knut or two. But he didn't feel strongly enough about it to mention his suspicions to anyone.

Price: failure of trust. Paid, autumn 1981. 

Remus was certain that Sirius thought he was the traitor. This meant that his lover, his friend, his partner of nearly five years, who had virtually grown up with him, now found him unworthy of trust.

He tried to understand. He was a werewolf, and he had lied about that. He lied quite easily, but only for self-preservation.

Sirius had elevated him from the rank of dark creature into human being, had imbued him with light, had called him beautiful, extolled his fair skin and light brown eyes and tawny hair, had ignored the core of evil that spiralled out every month; had even defused that evil, by becoming a big, shaggy dog and calling the wolf out to play, rendering the beast not only harmless but almost tame.

Sirius had elevated him, and was now letting him fall back again; no, dropping him, seeing evil that didn't even exist, imagining cowardice and wickedness and a disdain for ties of friendship that Remus couldn't begin to be capable of. Hadn't his friends made his constrained existence worth living? Hadn't they brought him pleasure and happiness beyond anything he would ever admit to them? And how on earth could Sirius believe for one second that he would betray the whole foundation of his life to serve an abomination like Voldemort?

Sometimes, Remus desperately needed Padfoot: he felt that he would be able to tell the dog all the things he could no longer tell the human, and then maybe the human would love and trust him again. He wanted to cuddle Padfoot, and ruffle his coat, and hold him close and breathe, 'Oh, Pads, I love you, love you so much,' and perhaps Padfoot would whine a bit and wag his tail and lick Remus's nose, and Remus would hug his warm body close and hide his face in the black fur.

Sirius was spending a lot of time with Peter these days, enough time that Remus might have been jealous, if Peter hadn't been living with that rather ugly Slytherin girl. His one hope was that perhaps Peter would manage to convince Sirius that he, Remus, was firmly on the side of whatever was right and good. He was even wondering whether he shouldn't contact Peter himself, ask Wormtail to put in a good word for him.

Price: loving and being loved. Paid, 1981: payment refunded, summer 1994.

Sirius didn't just fancy his werewolf rotten, he totally, utterly loved him, with every iota of his romantic soul, the good and the bad of it, the desire to lavish adoration mingled with the desire to stalk and possess.

Remus didn't seem, on the surface, someone you could possess. He possessed himself. He was self-sufficient. He was pretty aloof but could be pretty wild too, though he clammed up at the mention of anything personal. He loved Sirius at least as much as Sirius loved him, but his feelings weren't so obvious, simply because his emotions went deep, rooted themselves and were hard to shift.

As the Potters' lives drew to a close, the balance shifted dangerously. Sirius began to withdraw and withhold, and Remus tried to clutch on to the vestiges of whatever it was they once had. He wasn't sure he could remember what it was. He would look at Sirius without the projection of habit and affection, and find that he was cold, haughty, too sculpted. And Sirius's grey eyes would look back coolly, the pupils undilated. This was the first time Remus had ever consistently seen Sirius with grey, not black, eyes.

'How are James and Lily?' Remus would ask, hoping to see the black flare up in his lover's eyes for a second, and perhaps catch and take when Sirius looked back at him. 'How's Harry?'

Sirius would look away. 'They're fine.'

'And how are you, Sirius?' Remus would ask in his head. 'How are you, _Padfoot_?'

Then, he would carry on his silent, internal monologue. 'Well, thanks for asking, Pads. I'm effing rotten, actually. I have a gash on my arm that wasn't treated properly, because I transformed in some godforsaken Eastern European country, where the level of healing is non-existent. The cut keeps opening and bleeding, and I can't get it to stop. With any luck, I'll just bleed to death, and I don't really care if I do. Or I'll kill or bite someone at the next full moon, and they'll send me to Azkaban, and it would be an improvement on this flat here with you. I think the Dementors might show a bit more interest in me, even if they only want to suck out my soul.'

He often added, still in his head, 'I don't have any new secrets, Padfoot. Not a single one. But maybe you do.'

Sometimes, very rarely, Sirius would seem to catch an echo of Remus's thoughts. And the haughty cold look would disappear, and his face would crumble, and he'd put his arms around Remus and hold him very tightly, his head on Remus's shoulder. As if he didn't want to, but felt compelled to. As if he felt as desolate as Remus did. As if there might be hope that someday, somehow, they could be together again.

Then, Remus would feel ashamed of his bout of self-pity, and perhaps he'd stroke Sirius's hair, absent-mindedly, in the same way Sirius was holding him, as if they were characters in each other's dreams, so their actions could only affect themselves. They would even occasionally make love then, so slowly, so carefully, like wraiths that might dissolve at a touch. Such solipsistic loving, but in the end it was far better than nothing, because it was all Remus had to hang on to for a long, long time.

**Price: twelve lost years. Paid, November 1981 onward.**

Remus had always survived, been strong, kept his emotions under control and soldiered on; but everyone has his breaking point.

Everyone, that is, except a werewolf who had now turned twenty-one and come to terms with his innate and annoying sense of responsibility, who needed to keep in touch with reality so that he didn't accidentally wipe out half the neighbourhood every month.

He stayed in the flat, as it was in his name as well as Sirius's, waiting for some Black relative or other to come and throw him out and claim the leasehold. When this didn't happen, Remus allowed himself to relax a bit.

As this was a wizarding flat, the block held secure accommodation for resident and visiting werewolves. Remus was far from being the only one, after all. At every full moon, he went docilely to the holding pens, usually with three or four others of his kind. Because of ministry regulations, the pens weren't just secure but complied with certain humane guidelines laid down by the Care of Werewolves Association: they were spacious; water, meat, bunks and scratching posts were provided; and a healer was on permanent call to come and cure the werewolves' wounds on the morning after each full moon.

What Remus craved was firewhisky, men and women, endless sensation after sensation, to stop his mind working, to stop him from thinking. He yearned for anything he could fuck, snort, imbibe, inhale, inject, in order to crush out all lingering remnants of consciousness.

What he settled for was solitude, a restless, aching misery that could only find relief in escaping into the fictional worlds of Muggle novels, an emptiness that was, surprisingly, alleviated to some extent by vast quantities of chocolate.

He didn't want to touch Sirius's money, so all income from investments was directed to Vault Seven Eleven at Gringotts. He felt strange continuing to live in the shared flat, where the ghosts of half-forgotten love and laughter could leap out brightly from any corner to startle him. But he had nowhere else to go, bar a cottage in Wales left to him when his aunt died. He didn't want to live in Wales. Wales would certainly kill him.

Under the surface, grief and pain simmered so hotly that they sometimes caught Remus unawares, as when he was stacking shelves one day (a different supermarket, another job this time) and found that tears were pouring down his face; he was a bit bemused, but then suddenly the feeling caught up with him, and he nearly howled, the way the wolf howled, had to get down from his ladder halfway up a stack of baked beans, go and lock himself in the loo for half an hour until the paroxysms of total despair had abated a bit. Then he walked out and went home, not even bothering to give a forwarding address for his paycheck.

Three years on, he started compulsively to research everything he could about Azkaban: its position, its guards, its history. Five years on, he admitted to himself that if Sirius walked through the door he would rush to him and fling his arms around him and forgive him, as he always did.

Seven years on, he suppressed that thought, and decided that if Sirius ever came back he would call the Aurors immediately.

Ten years on, he finally replied to an owl from Dumbledore, who had been writing to him regularly for the past decade.

Twelve years on, he heard that Sirius Black had escaped. He didn't know whether to be scared or happy, but for some reason he decided to undo all wards on the flat, leave all the Floos open. Sometimes, he thought he felt a bit disappointed that Sirius hadn't tried to contact him. But he supposed that Sirius would now see him as the enemy. No doubt Sirius would try to find his Death Eater friends first.

After Sirius's escape, Remus accepted the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts master at Hogwarts. He didn't know whether he was bait for Sirius Black or whether or this was for his protection.

Before he left for King's Cross on September 1st, he removed his three earrings and put them safely away in his bedside table drawer.

**Interest: a brotherly hug, documented elsewhere.**

And the year at Hogwarts passed: not another lost year, but the best year of all, because at the end of it the light came back into Remus's life.

**End of Part II **


	3. Part 3

**The Cost of Loving  
By Minnow**

**Disclaimer:** These characters belong to J.K. Rowling and various publishers and corporations.  
**Summary:** Scenes from a relationship: a picaresque account of R/S.  
**Pairing:** Remus/Sirius  
**Era:** Post-Azkaban to OoTP.  
**Rating:** R  
**Note:** The timing of my behind-the-scenes summaries during GoF chimes reasonably with canon, I hope: Sirius's movements just after PoA are quite complicated.  
**Dedication:** This is for everyone who's stayed with the first two parts, especially if you commented on them. Hugs and thanks.

All headings have been entered in bold. If this doesn't always show up on the site, sorry.

**The Cost of Loving, Part III**

**Price: two beautiful faces. Paid in instalments, October 1981 on.**

Wherever he went, Remus always carried a photo of two young boys. It showed him and Sirius on their last day at Hogwarts, sitting on the grass by the lake, not touching, but occasionally sneaking looks at each other from under their lashes, shy, tentative glances. No matter what Sirius had done, no matter how he had destroyed them (under the Imperius, no doubt, but Remus didn't think about it that much) Remus would look at that picture and smile and remember how it felt to be young and happy and in love.

The years had cut swathes out of both those boys' lives, so that neither seemed to have fully experienced them: though Remus wasn't in Azkaban, he often felt that he might have been, often wondered whether he hadn't deliberately cut himself off from love and pleasure in order to delude himself that he was keeping his lover company in prison.

Without a mirror, he could have thought he was still twenty-one. But the mirror told him different. Oh, the boy in the photo would have recognised his older self all right, but he might have been rather sad that life hadn't been kinder to him

Sirius, Remus gathered, was completely ruined by his years in Azkaban: a walking skeleton with discoloured teeth. At school and after, he used to wash his hair every day: now it was long and matted and filthy. But Remus would look at him and see the twenty-one year-old man he had last said goodbye to near the end of the October the Potters were murdered. He would squint a bit, adjust his vision, try to see the wreck of Sirius Black, but he found it very hard. By the end of the first war, he hadn't been able to see the Sirius he loved: now, he couldn't see the real Sirius.

**Interest: an escape, July 1994.**

After Remus left Hogwarts, the school forwarded an owl from Sirius to him, and they met up again.

Sirius was about to leave the country, but agreed to delay the trip for a little while. They went to the flat, because Remus figured it was too obvious a place for the Aurors to look for Sirius; he thought they'd have a day or two before anyone came round, as long as Buckbeak stayed quietly in the spare room.

The first thing they did was cut Sirius's hair. 'You need to be able to wash and brush it at least, Padfoot. I can't get a comb through it. Not even with magic.'

'Not too short, though, Moony.'

'I can't promise that. It might hurt, okay?' Remus waved his wand: Sirius grimaced.

'Ouch. Oh, no, that's far too short! Everyone'll think I'm bald.'

'It's fine, Sirius. It wouldn't matter if they did, anyway. Cos then they won't recognise you.'

Remus dealt with the teeth next. 'We must get you a wand, but we'd better wait till we're out of England.'

Sirius was pleased that Remus had kept on the flat. 'I paid for the bloody place, after all. Nice to know we have somewhere to come back to when this is all over.'

Remus noted he said 'we'. He also knew that Sirius had regained most of his memories now, and that Sirius's best memories included the other boy in the photo, the boy Remus had been once upon a time; but he didn't know how Sirius would feel about the stranger he must now be, a bit lined, a bit worn, a bit greying. The way Sirius looked at him, though, Remus decided that his lover might still see him as someone beautiful, just the way he still saw Sirius.

**Price: feeling second best to a Potter again.**

When he thought about it, Remus realised that by 'we' Sirius might mean himself and Harry. He doubted that Sirius would be cruel enough to evict him, especially as they owned the flat jointly, but it would be fair enough for him to point out that Remus's only contributions had been a bookcase and a desk; and Sirius had paid for half the desk, as Remus couldn't afford the whole thing.

Sirius didn't disillusion him about this. He started to ask Remus all about Harry and what he was like, and what he'd been doing. Remus began to wonder if Sirius had only contacted him to discuss his godson.

He made tea, and found some very stale biscuits, and listened to Sirius rhapsodising about how like James Harry looked. His heart was barely mended, and he thought it might already have cracked again. Luckily, he was strong, or he would have found parts of this reunion strangely barren of feeling; except feeling for the dead, and for the living who reminded Sirius of the dead.

'But I'm still alive,' Remus wanted to protest, though he wasn't sure how alive he could really be said to be after twelve years in a sort of suspended animation.

**Interest: some hugging; no kissing.**

They only spent one night at the flat, agreeing that even now Sirius had been groomed, it would be better for him to leave the country as soon as possible.

'It's not like we're married,' Sirius said – he had to be the one to say, it because he was the extrovert and able to say what he was thinking. 'But we would have been if one of us had been a woman. So it shouldn't be any different, should it, from a bloke coming out of prison and going home to his wife? If his wife hasn't divorced him.'

'Why should I be seen as someone's wife?' Remus objected. 'Anyway, if we'd been married we'd have been divorced before you went to Azkaban.'

'No, we were still together, weren't we? Sort of. Stop being an idiot, Moony. You know what I mean. It's usually the man in prison. But you can be waiting for your delinquent wife if it makes you happy. Don't you want to be married to me?'

'There's been a lot of 'for worse',' Remus demurred.

'Right, then, it can only get better, can't it?' Sirius said robustly. 'Listen, you have to come away with me. We can get to know each other again.'

Remus leaned over and put his arms around Sirius. 'Like this?'

Sirius hugged him back. 'Yeah, like that. It's what marriage is all about, isn't it?'

'Ours was,' Remus agreed. 'Or would have been, if we'd actually been married in the first place.'

'That's because we're both blokes, see. It's an advantage. Women always have headaches, or they have babies, and they're not into sex the way men are.'

'And you'd know that how?'

Sirius flushed a bit. 'Well, James said something once. After Harry. He said that I was lucky you'd never push me away because the baby'd kept you up all night. That was before – you know. The whole spy thing.'

'But Sirius,' Remus said, wishing he didn't feel he _had_ to say this, damning common sense, 'the Ministry of Magic, and the Aurors and everybody…they knew we were together in the end. Don't ask how. Probably Peter blabbed to both sides. So if I go with you it'll just put you in danger.'

'We'll travel separately,' Sirius said. 'I'll take Buckbeak, and we'll arrange where we're going, and then you can Apparate later.'

He touched Remus's hand, and Remus could still feel the heat passing between them as it had since they were teenagers – children, really -- and not fully aware of what they were getting themselves into. He hoped, he really hoped, that Sirius could feel it too.

'Early thirties isn't old, anyway,' Sirius said, as if he were reading Remus's mind. 'A lot of people don't even get married till they're well over thirty.'

Neither of them mentioned commitment again that night, but they slept in the same bed, the big wooden bed, with their arms round each other, but otherwise not touching, and when they woke the sun was high in the sky and it was time for them to part again, briefly.

**Interest: a summer together.**

Sirius and Buckbeak flew to Morocco first, and Remus arrived a day later. There was a thriving magical community there, where nobody had ever heard of Sirius Black. They bought a large cage full of tropical birds, to put any spies off the scent, and stayed for two nights. It was hot, far too hot to be a summer destination, even with the sea and the miles of empty, sandy beaches.

Remus, who tended to be cold, would have been quite happy to remain in Rabat for a while. He liked to drink mint tea and stare into the waves; he still had to get his head round the fact that Sirius was there, Sirius was with him, right next to him, and he was innocent, and this wasn't a dream. He thought he'd wake up in his room at Hogwarts; or perhaps his body was in wolf form, curled up under the desk in his office, drugged up with Wolfsbane Potion, and his wolf mind had tripped up looking for Padfoot and the rest of the lost pack.

'But I'd always choose to go somewhere hot,' Sirius explained. 'Everyone will know that. We mustn't stay too long in one place.'

Remus took a last regretful look at the Atlantic before they left.

They moved on a few times, with their cage of birds, and a wand Sirius had acquired from a street-seller in Marrakech, when they travelled inland toward the mountains. It seemed to work almost as well as his old one, in spite of its dubious provenance. They lingered near the sun for a while longer than Sirius was quite comfortable with, not because he didn't crave warmth after Azkaban but because he was so determined not to be recaptured.

Before leaving North Africa, they went their separate ways to Tunisia, then decided it was time to leave the south and find somewhere cooler. But first they made a detour to the West Indies together, so that Sirius could sit under a palm tree on the sand, while the tropical birds were allowed out of their cage for a while and flew round under the blazing sun.

All this time, Remus and Sirius were talking about the past, about the Potters, about what had happened to them, about friendship and love and the mourning neither of them had quite completed. Every day, they would seem to inch a bit closer to each other. For the moment, it was about comfort, habit too: habits being very hard for the instincts to forget. They would sometimes kiss, and it was familiar and good and right.

The world left them behind in 1981. Since then, there had been AIDs, Muggle wars, the next generation -- the generation of James's son -- arriving at Hogwarts. But Sirius and Remus were still stuck where they had been when they last saw each other, poised between the present and the past, cut adrift from the future that had arrived while Sirius was mouldering in Azkaban and Remus was sleepwalking through the days in London.

'I didn't sleep with anyone else,' Remus said, quite abruptly one morning in Tunisia. 'I don't have any fearsome Muggle diseases.'

Sirius flinched. 'Fine, Remus. Neither did I, though you need hardly ask. Or Padfoot. Poor Pads. Very restrained, for a dog.'

He then said, 'But I'm surprised you didn't. You were the one who had affairs, weren't you? Not me.'

Remus was incensed. '_Once_. Not an affair. For God's sake --- '

'I know it wasn't a big deal. But it happened, didn't it?'

'You were reasonable.'

'I'm not now.'

Remus understood then that in Azkaban a minor indiscretion could stretch and swell to cataclysmic proportions.

They moved on, north this time, to Alaska. 'Too far,' Remus shivered. 'Please, Padfoot. Let's go south again now.'

'No. No.' Sirius hugged Remus to him. 'I can keep you warm.'

And Remus stopped shivering, and hugged him back. It was two days before the full moon, and he would have to wait here in the frozen wilderness, transform far away from civilisation; but it was summer, so it wouldn't be too dreadful. And Padfoot would be with him this time.

**Interest: love on the run.**

They ended up in the fairy-tale forests of Scandinavia, where it was easy to imagine enchanted princesses drifting among the trees, or lying in glass coffins in a clearing.

In an abandoned woodcutter's hut in the middle of the deepest, darkest forest, they finally made love again, not like hormonal teenagers, or as a couple living together, the way they once had, but like two adults who barely knew each other yet knew each other all too well; like two lovers who were more than tangentially friends; like two halves of a whole that had been apart for far too long.

Perhaps it was never going to be quite the same: but the days of frantic kissing and reaching for each other over and over again in the night weren't gone forever: Thirteen years of celibacy had rekindled a potent lust between them.

It was very, very good, and it got even better, with practice, as it always had in the past. And they had plenty of practice, learning again to kiss for hours, to look, to touch, to moan, to love and be loved with every part of their bodies and souls. It was slower, not so desperate, because there seemed to be an eternity just to gaze, golden eyes into silver ones, open and honest and trusting.

The days drifted past. When they got bored, they made forays to towns twinkling with magical lights strung on wires so fine they seemed to be suspended in air, and ate raw fish, which the wolf particularly enjoyed, and drank chocolate and sat in a trance watching the sea lap at the harbour: a cold, northern sea, this one, not the warm sea of the south.

In August, Hedwig appeared with an owl from Harry, tapping her beak at the windows of the hut in the middle of the night, rattling the panes as she beat her wings against the glass. Sirius sent her away at once, before he read the letter. When he answered, he used one of the tropical birds, whose cage was surrounded by a special warming charm. He was worried about how the bird would fare in non-temperate climes. He was more worried about Harry's scar, and discussed it at great length with Remus.

Remus understood that their time together was over: now, Harry would be hovering between them, and Sirius would fret and fuss about what to do. He wanted to go straight back to England, but Remus dissuaded him.

'You'll be rearrested, Pads. Why not wait a while, and see how things go?'

'All right.' But Sirius couldn't sleep, and paced the small bedroom in the middle of the night, keeping Remus awake too.

They didn't float through another season so lightly, because news continued to come from England, and the tug of James's child was always going to be stronger than the tug of even the dearest of lovers. In the end, Remus knew, he would have to let Sirius go: not only let him, encourage him.

They went home together in the middle of autumn.

**Interest: being normal: one autumn, winter and part of spring.**

'I know you want to be near Harry, but there's no point in being reckless, is there?' Remus asked.

'No, of course not. We still have to live somewhere, though, don't we?'

The London flat was out, as was any property with a connection to either man: Grimmauld Place was safe, but Sirius refused to stay there for any length of time.

'We are,' Remus said, 'a pair of ordinary guys. Okay?'

'Yeah, I get it,' Sirius said. 'Are we a couple or not?'

'Better not, I think, on the whole,' Remus said. 'Muggles are fine with it now, most of the time, but it could get us recognised. And we're not wizards either.'

'What d'we do? Landlords always ask that.'

'Well, I'm a college lecturer. You know, at a Muggle place of learning. Advanced learning.'

'I like the 'advanced'. What am I, then?'

'What you always were. A mechanic. You can get work at a garage again, can't you?'

'If I can remember the first thing about engines.'

Remus wrote a list:

_We are normal. At the full moon, we need to Apparate to somewhere unpopulated, and there should be no problem. Buckbeak must be well hidden. Sirius will put an invisibility spell on him, so Muggles can't see him. We are renting an allotment a bit out of town, where we can tether him for a month or so, until Sirius needs him._

_Sirius is a widower. His wife died of malaria in India. He has got over her now, but still looks a bit gaunt and haunted when he thinks of her. She had brown hair and eyes and her name was Mary. She was the same age as him. They didn't have any children._

_I am a distant relative of Sirius. I am separated from my wife. She claims I beat her. Domestic violence is all the rage with Muggles, I think, though perhaps I should say she beat me or I won't get any sympathy and they'll put me on yet another register. I've decided I want children. Twins, a boy and a girl. I'm not allowed to see them because I'm too dangerous._

_The owls that keep coming to our window: well, Sirius used to be quite a well-known bird impersonator. Sometimes, he forgets himself and calls owls. Absent-minded. That also explains the cage full of tropical birds that we carry with us wherever we go._

_We share this exorbitantly expensive flat, and we use both the bedrooms. And bugger, there are two single beds, which is really a pain, though neither of us is excessively fat. It's a Muggle area. A few of the neighbours do look at us funny, as Sirius says. We really need to make an effort to act like ordinary blokes, if that's possible. Sirius has a wedding ring. I took mine off, because I don't like my wife._

'Remus, why do you feel the need to write everything down?' Sirius asked, bemused. 'You can remember things, can't you? You must tell me if there's a problem.'

'Yeah. Well, somebody has to keep track of our new identities. And what we do. For instance, you may need an alibi next time you break into a wizarding house to talk to Harry. What were you thinking of?'

'Dragons, of course.'

They were living in a shabby English seaside town, in a flat on the front, with sea views from three windows. At night, they could hear the waves splashing and receding. The plaster on the once-lovely Regency building was peeling, the interior needed repainting, and the furniture consisted of a lurid orange sofa, the aforementioned beds, a rickety table and one kitchen chair. Sirius managed to get a temporary job at a local Fiat dealer, doing car repairs, MOTs and services. Remus was supposed to be on a sabbatical ('horrible Muggle word,' Sirius objected), and spent hours on end wandering along the stony beaches, collecting shells, in a daydream, in a sort of daze. He was afraid that this might look like eccentric behaviour, but he couldn't help himself. He kept the shells and glued them together in weird shapes: nothing saleable like people or animals, just weird. Sirius was worried that his beloved werewolf was still feeling the effects of the lost years and had retained a touch of lunacy.

They snuggled together on one of the single beds every night, giggling like children and sometimes provoking bangs on the wall from their next-door neighbour, who soon stopped giving them odd looks and started blushing and averting her eyes whenever she saw them, scuttling by in great distress. 'I think we blew our cover,' Sirius said, amused, but Remus was embarrassed, so after that they reverted to their old favourite silencing spells.

At Christmas, they ate a whole turkey between them – Sirius cooked it – and a lot of mince pies. They went to see Buckbeak in the morning, rendering him briefly visible, and gave him his present of rats and dead rabbits. At home again, they drank ordinary whisky, as Muggles did, and they got drunk and did some things that probably scandalised their neighbour even more, because Remus forgot the charm. But they'd had too much whisky to care.

On Twelfth Night, Remus took their tiny Christmas tree down to the street to go away with the rubbish collection: he had some idea of growing it further, but it didn't have any roots. He was worried about the new year. He hoped it wouldn't bring any more distress, but of course Sirius was more and more preoccupied with the Triwizard tournament. Unlike Remus, Sirius kept up with wizarding news, still managed to get hold of his copy of the Daily Prophet every morning, and knew that the world was about to be plunged into turmoil again.

They left the flat, and the town, early in March, with their rent paid up to the end of April. Remus was a bit dismayed about the wasted money, but Sirius said, 'For goodness' sake, it means you can go back there if you like, for a week or two.' Remus shrugged. He'd already packed his case, and just needed to Apparate to his destination.

Before they locked the front door for the last time, they kissed goodbye, long and longing and loving, clinging together as if they could never bear to let each other go again.

They went down to the street, and Remus resolved that before he left for good he would take one more walk by the sea. Sirius was going to collect Buckbeak from the allotment and then fly on to Hogsmeade. Remus was worried that he would travel too far in dog form, and wear himself out. He tried to smile, though, and said, 'Bye, Padfoot. See you whenever, okay?'

Sirius thumped him on the back, rather too heartily. 'Whenever. Be good, Moony.'

**Price: Wales. Paid, spring-summer 1995.**

When Sirius left for Hogsmeade, Remus decided that he would do something new at least, and went to live at his aunt's cottage in Wales. He felt far less pessimistic about it than he had been in the past, knowing that Sirius was in the world and innocent and might come back some day.

He usually tried to forget his childhood in this cottage, after his parents died. It had been a bleak, lonely childhood, even though he always knew that he'd be going back to Hogwarts and seeing his friends. He'd kept himself going by burying himself in his books. His aunt bred geese and chickens, and made him feed them when he was there. Remus had always hated geese and chickens as a result. He doubted that even the wolf would chase a goose; probably run in the other direction.

The cottage was two miles from any shop, about ten miles from any town or village. As a boy, unable to Apparate, forbidden by his aunt to use his broomstick, Remus used to sneak out on foot to see how far he could get before he saw anyone. It was a masochistic game: masochistic, because his aunt always caught him and punished him. She wasn't given to beatings, but she was quite happy to keep Remus locked in his room for two days.

One wonderful summer when he was fifteen, just after OWLs, the farmer who technically lived next door, though it was half a mile away, had a visit from his niece, a pretty witch about two years older than Remus, who went to school at Beauxbatons. She set out to seduce Remus, as she was bored and her boyfriend was in Paris. Remus was thrilled beyond measure to have his ghastly summer livened up so, and they had a very good time indeed before her parents arrived to fetch her home. As a bonus, his aunt wanted to keep in the farmer's good books – she relied on him for milk – so she allowed Remus to see as much of the niece as he liked.

Remus would have been more than happy to sleep with her, but they never quite got that far, because she started having pangs of conscience about her boyfriend. They got a very long way all the same, even if they didn't actually quite take the final step.

He had never told Sirius about this, aware of the irony that he and Sirius had both either slept, or very nearly slept, with girls the summer before they became lovers. Unlike poor Zoe at Hogwarts with her unrequited love, the summer girl in Wales was nothing like Sirius: she had fair hair and blue eyes.

Perhaps Sirius was right and he needed a secret. He had often wondered over the years what would have happened if the girl hadn't had a boyfriend. Would he still have fallen in love with Sirius? On balance, he decided that he would always have chosen Sirius, but it was sometimes good to surmise that there might have been alternatives: it made him feel more in control.

**Interest: a cottage.**

Remus remembered the cottage as a sort of hell, where he and his aunt had spent many mealtimes in silence in the small dining room, eating soup and toast mainly – his aunt had very little appetite – and evenings in the slightly larger parlour, where his aunt would sometimes play the piano, an instrument of torture to Remus in those days. If it hadn't been for Lily's Muggle bands, he would have hated music almost as much as he hated geese and chickens.

One of the henhouses, a large, fairly well-equipped one, he had to admit, had served as his cage for full moon nights. He checked that it was still secure with the chain in place, because otherwise he would have to lock himself in the cellar, and the wolf hated being indoors, unless it was drugged up with Wolfsbane potion.

Now, the cottage seemed almost picturesque, bigger than he remembered it: unusual for a childhood home. But then, his aunt had been such a domineering presence that she dwarfed any surroundings.

Remus decided that the cottage would make a far cosier hideout than he'd imagined. The place had been swept fairly clean, but as nobody had lived there for about fourteen years it was dusty and musty, and the windows were caked with grime. But Remus had a wand and his mother's old book of household spells, so he was sure he could soon get the place decent again. For Sirius, when Sirius returned from his complicated mission.

But it was a few months before Sirius arrived.

**Interest: an owl, or rather a macaw.**

_M,_

_I've got here safely. Hope the cottage is okay and not too full of horrible memories. Remember this bird? She was the one you thought you'd like to keep when we got home. But I am relying on you to send her back with a reply!_

_I am missing you. Funny, when you're there I never remember how much I miss you when you aren't. That may have come out wrong. I really miss everything about you. Everything. It's very lonely at night. I feel the way I used to feel at school when I had to creep out of your bed early in the morning so James or Peter wouldn't jump up and pull back your curtains to wake you up, and get an eyeful of something that would have completely traumatised them._

_I wish we were back there, in your bed, when nothing else existed beyond the two of us, and that everything afterwards had been a bad dream. I wish I could go to sleep with you and wake up with you, and do a lot of things in between with you. Buckbeak is no substitute._

_Please write back. I'm very, very bored. Looking forward to joining you in that godforsaken country retreat as soon as humanly possible._

_Love, P._

**Price: expression of true feelings. Paid, frequently, noted once in an unsent letter.**

_Padfoot,_

_Well, it bloody serves you right. You didn't have to go and live in a sodding cave in Hogsmeade, did you? You could be here with me, you wanker. Yeah, and wanking is about all the action either of us is going to get for the next few months, thanks to your being such a moron. As if thirteen years wasn't long enough._

_Why, when you become responsible at last, do you have to take it to such ludicrous extremes? You could have paid a flying visit. You could have come back to me. You chose not to. You don't even deserve an answer, really_.

**Interest: one sent owl.**

_Glad you've arrived. The cottage isn't too bad. Maybe you'll see it one of these days! I would rather be in London, but it's quite good to get some country air._

_Hope this bird will survive the journey. Say hi to Buckbeak from me._

_I miss you too._

_Love, M._

**Price: bad news about Voldemort/Interest: reunion at last. (Paid/balanced June 1995.)**

When Remus last saw Sirius, Sirius had been looking good. Better, younger, happier, with glossy hair and not nearly so skeletal.

Now, even through Remus's biased eyes, his vision as ever projected from the heart rather than the head, Sirius was looking very much the worse for wear. His hair was long again, though at least it wasn't too matted, he had lost all the weight he'd put on, and his eyes were haunted.

After Sirius had delivered all his news, he finally leaned forward into Remus's arms, and Remus could feel every one of his ribs through his robes. 'God, Padfoot, haven't you eaten for the past few months?'

'No. And I'm bloody starving.'

Remus looked around dubiously. 'I haven't got much food in the house. You could have warned me.'

'But you do have tea, don't you? I'll have a cup. White, three sugars.'

'That's not going to get you very far, is it?'

'No.' He hugged Remus again, resting his head on top of Remus's. 'Come on, Moony. Let's start with the calories. I'm supposed to be 'lying low' with you, by the way. But you'll have to feed me up first.' He sniggered.

'That is one dirty laugh. Come on, sit down.'

Sirius had three cups of tea, and Remus found a half-eaten bar of chocolate under one of the sofa cushions. 'It can't be that old, because I've only had the sofa a couple of weeks.'

Sirius looked dubious. 'What if it was already there?'

'It wasn't. You don't get Honeydukes chocolate in Wales.'

When Sirius had eaten the chocolate and finished off the milk and most of the sugar, Remus Apparated to the nearest town to buy bread and meat. His magical powers did not include a talent for cookery, so he stocked up on burgers from the local McDonald's, who were doing a 'Buy one, get one free' offer. He bought several boxes of fries as well, then Apparated home again, where Sirius ate nearly the whole lot, leaving one small cheeseburger for Remus.

'Sorry, Moony. But I really did need that. And now I could do with some sleep.'

'There's only one bedroom. Well, there are three, but only one of them has a bed.'

'Is that a problem? Since when don't we share a bedroom?

'We didn't in Morocco,' Remus said.

'We were sleeping on the beach in Morocco. I hope you have a decent bed. Those beds in Hastings were murder.'

'Not as big as the bed in the flat,' said Remus, rather wistfully. 'I do miss the flat. Oh, I know I was miserable all those years, but you were there. Or your essence was.'

'But my whole self is here now,' Sirius pointed out. 'Let's have some time together. While we can. Once the Order's up and running it's going to take up every second. Just like it did before.'

So they had some time together: they should have stayed in the cottage in Wales, where the bad memories had been scrubbed out, and sunshine poured through the windows, and Padfoot and the wolf had acres and acres to run round on full moon nights. They slept in each other's arms and loved each other and were happy; but of course they were always going to have to pay, even for such a tiny sliver of joy.

**Price: Grimmauld Place. Paid: forever, until the sun and moon and stars have all gone out.**

'I might as well be back in Azkaban,' Sirius used to say.

'For God's sake! It's only boring here, Pads, not deadly dangerous.'

'Ha! You don't know the half of it.'

'I do. Now, shut up.'

Remus wondered why the hell Sirius was crazy enough to offer Grimmauld Place to the Order in the first place. He had alternatives, the best of which was to allow the Order to use his family home as headquarters while he remained in Wales. Risky, but not beyond the bounds of common sense.

But oh no, Remus muttered to himself, Sirius had to do the most foolhardy thing of all, which was to allow himself to be swept back into that awful childhood home with all its associations, so that he'd become sullen and miserable and developed a bloody drink problem.

He was generally fine when Remus was around. Remus tended to keep him within normal limits. When Remus was there, Sirius didn't reek of stale alcohol. He ate well. He and Remus would light a fire and sit in the big drawing-room, by themselves, well away from Kreacher, and play wizarding chess or cards or talk or read, or just sit quietly together staring into the flames in companionable silence, like any quasi-married couple. They even had children to discuss, though they weren't their own children.

When Remus was around, they'd get to bed at a reasonable hour, sometimes rather earlier than a reasonable hour, and not get up till late. If Sirius had nightmares, which he did quite frequently in Grimmauld Place, Remus would be there to wake him and go down and fetch him a cup of hot chocolate with a decent shot of firewhisky in it.

It was hardly exciting, but at least Sirius was safe and occupied.

Unfortunately, Remus was very rarely around. It may, he reflected, have been some particular sadism of Dumbledore's to choose to send him on virtually every bloody mission that required at least a week's travel. When Molly Weasley hinted that Remus was mainly there to keep an eye on Sirius, he had to give a wry smile: he was there less than just about anybody else, and hardly had a chance to say hello to Sirius occasionally, let alone keep an eye on him.

Maybe, Remus thought, Dumbledore was aiming to divide and rule, keeping him away from Sirius deliberately, so that if it came to the crunch Sirius would be there for Harry, without any confused loyalties. But he would be anyway, Remus knew, and he got pretty pissed off about the games being played in and around the Order. Almost as pissed off as Sirius: he could understand why Sirius was angry and frustrated most of the time.

**Price: the unavoidable presence of Snape. Paid, Grimmauld Place.**

Sirius, as a joke, and to keep him occupied, started an inventory of Black artefacts that he would like to keep to attack Snivellus with.

The list included a knife tipped with indelible poison, an indestructible nest of spiders' eggs that renewed themselves perpetually as one generation of huge, hairy spiders followed another, a torture instrument like a misshapen fork designed to remove teeth with the maximum of agony, and many other family heirlooms.

Snape hated Remus and Sirius, and always had. The worst thing about Snape was that he knew all about them. He was homophobic to a compulsive degree – Sirius thought that was the result of stringent denial – and made it clear that he found Remus and Sirius disgusting.

Snape had always had a habit of sneaking round after them. At school, he once intercepted a note Sirius was passing in a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The note asked Remus to wait after the lesson so they could sneak off and snog somewhere: Sirius tended to be fairly graphic in his notes, so it was hard for Snape to misinterpret it. Snape gave them a filthy look, but didn't quite have the nerve to hand the note to the professor.

Worse, and very disconcertingly, in Seventh Year Snape caught them with their arms around each other, though not actually doing anything. It could have been dismissed as a simple act of male bonding if they hadn't been standing quite so close together; if they hadn't been in a dark, apparently deserted corridor; and if Sirius hadn't been making a choked, incoherent noise as Remus's lips grazed his neck. No use pretending that these things could happen to anybody. Especially as Snape wouldn't have believed an innocent explanation: and there wasn't one.

But then, Snape sought out incidents like that: he had obviously followed them quite some way, because the corridor was by the south tower and miles away from classrooms or Slytherin dungeons.

In Grimmauld Place, Snape had a way of pulling his robes aside a bit when he went past either Remus or Sirius, of wrinkling his nose, of implying that he knew exactly what they did and found it unspeakably revolting. 'I take it you and Black will be having some, er, _private_ time later, so perhaps you could use part of it to discuss Order business,' was one of his barbed comments. He even made the occasional reference to 'your _unusual_ relationship' but he didn't quite dare do this in front of Sirius.

Sometimes, it was all Remus could do to remember he was an adult and not hit Snape with an Unforgivable Curse.

It was irrational, but Remus entirely blamed Snape for Sirius's death. He could list every one of Snape's insults, every time he had taunted Sirius for being stuck in Grimmauld Place. He wanted to confront Snape, to grab him by the neck of his robes and snarl, 'You killed him, you bastard. If you hadn't sneered at him he'd still be alive.'

Quite often during that terrible summer after Harry's OWLs, Remus would wish that the prank in Sixth Year hadn't ended without bloodshed; that he'd at least bitten Snape. If he had a time-turner, he mused, he would go back and finish the job. Then he would run off somewhere with Sirius, and their whole story would be completely different. Not necessarily better. Just different.

**Final entry: flashbacks to a bad dream. Paid, Grimmauld Place, summer 1996.**

'I had a nightmare,' Sirius said. He hardly needed to: he was drenched with sweat, and his hands were shaking.

'It's okay. It's okay. D'you want some light?'

'Yes, please.'

Remus waved his wand, and flames danced in the lamps around the room; lamps that had come from the cottage, and shed a soft, diffused glow that beautified even these dim, dark rooms with their high ceilings.

'Shall I get you a drink, Pads?'

'No, no. Stay here. I'll be fine.'

'Was it the usual? Come here, Sirius, you're so cold.'

'Shouldn't be. It's the bloody middle of summer. Yeah, the usual. Well, a bit different. I was here, and I was sixteen. And my mother'd just found out about that letter, you know, the letter to you.'

'I know.'

Sirius curled up against Remus, his head on Remus's shoulder. 'Then, my father came along and gave me a hiding. Actually, I don't think he did beat me for that. Must have been another memory. Anyway, I said I'd had enough and was leaving. And then I left, and…it was better. It was you and me, the way it really was. Prongs was there.'

'Well, that wasn't too bad, then,' Remus soothed.

'No. No, it wasn't. It was brilliant. It was the best dream I've had for ages. We were back at school. Never thought I'd find a dream about school so wonderful. We were sitting by the lake. Do you remember that day? When you lost your prefect's badge? It was that day, and I was so happy. God, I'd forgotten how happy I was. I hope you were too.'

Remus laughed. 'Yes. Of course I was.'

'Good. Well, that was hardly a nightmare. So suddenly we were walking down the hidden passageway, the one you said had caved in now. All of us. Even…even Peter. As soon as I saw him I knew the dream was a bad one after all. But it was okay, because a minute later he wasn't there any more. You know how dreams are. Then Prongs wasn't there, but I didn't feel too sad, because you and I were going to Honeydukes, and we were talking about the sweets we were going to buy. But you went off somewhere, and I couldn't find you. I was a bit frantic, because I thought you might have transformed, and we had to get you to the Shack. So I went to the Shack, and Prongs and Lily were there, and they told me that I had to go on now, and leave you behind. I said that Padfoot had to find you, because the wolf shouldn't be on its own again.'

'Sirius, you mustn't let worrying about the wolf get into your dreams! It isn't fair. It's my headache.'

'No, it's not. We're supposed to share things, aren't we? But then, it was like I was hovering above you, looking down. And it was the morning after the full moon, and you were lying there covered with cuts and bruises, but I couldn't reach you. I was calling you, trying to get you to hear me, and I must have woken myself up shouting for you.'

'It was just a dream. I'm here. Right here. And you're thinking about Prongs cos it's nearly the end of term, and you'll be seeing Harry soon.'

'That's right. I'm sorry, Moony. Sorry I woke you.'

'It's okay. I'll leave the lights on for a while, shall I?'

'Thanks. I just hated to see you lying so hurt and all alone.'

'But I'm not alone now. I have you. Go back to sleep, Padfoot.'

**The End **


End file.
